


just a wetter version of the sky

by sarken



Category: Real News RPF
Genre: Gen, Inappropriate Relationships with Teenagers, The 80s AUAU, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-09
Updated: 2009-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel drags Keith over to her house to spend an evening by the pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a wetter version of the sky

Rachel shows up at his townhouse one night and grabs him by the hands. "Come on come on come on," she says with a grin, tugging him right out the door, and Keith laughs and tries not to trip over his own feet as Rachel pulls him down the porch steps, toward her badly parked car.

"What? Where? Can I lock the door?" he asks, grinning back at her and pulling in the opposite direction. She's strong, but he's stronger, and he drags her toward him until she's pressed up against his chest.

"Ugh," Rachel scoffs, and she pushes at his chest as she pulls away. "If you have to. But quick! And bring the vodka!"

He chuckles. "Where are we going?" he asks as he disappears back inside.

"My house," she calls through the screen door. "My parents are out of town and we need a change of scenery."

"Are you implying my place is boring?" he asks, reemerging with a bottle of vodka in one hand and his keys in the other. He dangles the vodka in front of her. "Answer wisely."

"Your place is fantastic," Rachel says sarcastically, making a grab for the bottle. Keith pulls it away and she pouts. "I live to sleep on your sticky leather couch and shower in your skuzzy bathtub."

"Uh huh," he says. "Just wait, kid. It's going to look like a palace once you head off to college."

"You know what makes your place awesome, though? The vodka," she says matter-of-factly. "Now gimme."

She makes another unsuccessful grab and he laughs. "Get in the car," he says, chuckling, and when she turns to head for her Civic, he swats her on the ass and she yelps out a laugh.

Rachel looks over her shoulder at him, trying and failing to grin lasciviously as she says, "Oh, baby, you know what I like. Go on -- do it again."

She wiggles her ass at him, but Keith just laughs and ruffles her hair. "Maybe after the vodka."

-

"What are we doing?" he asks as she leads him out to the pool. He still has the bottle of vodka clutched in his hand, and he sets it down on the poolside table.

"Swimming." Rachel sits on a lawn chair to take off her shoes and socks. She glances up at him and smiles as she wiggles her toes. "Duh."

Keith tries not to notice the chipped polish on her toes, left over from her prom night. "Mm," he says. "Pity no one told me to bring my suit." He holds his arms out wide, showing that he has nothing hidden on his person. It's just him and the vodka he set on the table.

Rachel cocks her head, regarding him seriously before getting to her feet. "Yeah, well," she says, walking around the edge of the pool. Keith can only stare at her feet, the way they never seem to fall flat against the concrete as she walks lightly, almost on tiptoe. He thinks he might be developing a fetish.

Rachel stops near the base of the diving board. "It's funny the way things happen sometimes, isn't it?" she asks, dropping her denim shorts to the ground before she steps onto the diving board. Her t-shirt reaches to her hips, and it sways with every step she takes on the board. "I mean, mine is all the way in the house."

Keith takes a deep breath as he watches her, his heart beating faster as she stands on the edge, her fingers on the hem of her shirt. He can't believe the next words out of his mouth are, "What about the vodka?"

She laughs, bouncing lightly on the diving board. "I got this book the other day, about cocktails. I'll make you one later if you want." In one clean motion, she pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it behind her. "But if you want to start drinking now, though, be my guest."

In the moonlight, it's hard to see, but Keith thinks her bra might be the same pale blue as her prom dress. Her panties are black, and Keith is sure the vodka won't stop him from making the wrong decision.

"I can wait," he says, and his voice sounds strained and high to his own ears.

She nods in his direction, and there is hardly a sound as she dives into the pool, her body gracefully slicing through the dark surface of the deep end, rippling the moon's reflection.

In those seconds without her, something in Keith's chest constricts. The air around him is heavy with silence and just when he thinks he's going to stop breathing, the surface breaks and Rachel emerges right in front of him, hands gripping the edge of pool.

"Hi," she says, breathless, slicking her blonde hair back from her face. She flicks water up at him and laughs as he flinches away. "What, are you going to melt like something from The Wizard of Oz?"

"You mean all those times at my house and you never noticed the broomstick and crystal ball?" he asks.

"The flying monkeys would explain the mess," Rachel says thoughtfully. She tugs at his pants leg. "C'mon, Keith. Please?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Have fun, kid," he says, stepping back toward the lawn chair. "I'll just watch from here."

With a sigh, she pushes away from the wall, floating on her back. "I think you can't swim," she says after a moment. "Either that or you have some terrible birth defect you don't want me to see. Or, or, wait. It's a scar. You were in a terrible accident, and -- no. You were in a gunfight."

Keith laughs outright. "Yeah, I was in a gunfight," he says. "I'm really out here on the lam, hiding from the law. That mustache I had? That was my disguise."

"Why'd you get rid of it?" she asks idly. "Not that I'm complaining."

Keith doesn't tell her about the fifteen thousand dollar signing bonus, doesn't tell her that he surrendered it because some smart-mouthed sixteen year old girl, one he never expected to see again, teased him at an A's game. He doesn't tell her how he was wrapped around her finger from the first second, how no is only barely in his vocabulary when it comes to her. He doesn't say anything, just grabs a dive toy off the ground and tosses it into the pool, watching it sink.

"You think I'm that easy to distract?" Rachel asks. She drops out of her float, her feet coming to rest on the bottom of the shallow end. "It's pitch black down there. I'm never going to find that."

Keith is silent, but he raises an eyebrow.

Rachel growls. "God, I hate you," she says, and then she disappears into the deep end of the pool, kicking hard enough to splash him as she goes under.

At first, he can breathe while he waits. There is nothing heavy around this moment, no anticipation, no suspense, no decisions. It's just a toy, just a game, just Rachel and her own competitiveness, and Keith with drops of water darkening his shirt. He hears a car in the distance and he looks at his watch. He doesn't know how long she's been gone, and things start to flash through his mind: police cars, ambulances, her parents. He worries about his job, about his reputation, and that makes him certain everything is fine. Something would go off in his head if it weren't; something would stop him from being selfish. He sits back and looks at the sky.

She comes up before he can second-guess himself, gasping and panting as she tosses the toy onto the sidewalk where it rolls toward the chair. "Fuck you," she says, a few heavy breaths separating the words. She looks exhausted and exhilarated, like she just pushed herself to her limit, as she grabs onto the ledge, using everything up to her elbows to hold on. She coughs, hawking and spitting into the pool before she grins and says, "I didn't think I'd get it." She coughs and spits again. "Ugh. I have like half the pool in my lungs."

"Lovely," Keith says, chuckling as he slides off the chair. He kicks the toy as he walks over to the edge of the pool. Bending over, he offers his hands to help her out. "C'mon and make me that cocktail."

Rachel laughs and coughs before grabbing his hands. "I could so pull you in right now," she says.

"I'm not even convinced you can drag yourself out," Keith says, but all it takes is a little strength and a little leverage before she's on solid ground, forward momentum making her fall against him. She goes with it, letting him take all her weight.

"You're wet," he says, and his voice is quieter than he expects. He isn't sure how his hands ended up on her hips, his thumbs beneath the waistband of her underwear. Her breathing is shallow, and Keith doesn't think it has anything to do with swimming.

She presses her lips together and looks away. "There's nothing I can say here that wouldn't sound like porn."

His hands rest a little lighter on her hips. "You shouldn't be watching that stuff."

"And you shouldn't be leaving it in your VCR," she retorts. A satisfied grin flashes briefly across her face, fading quickly into a more serious expression. "Seems like we're both good at doing things we shouldn't."

It's his turn to look away.


End file.
